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Love and Steel 3
Love and Steel 3 is an encounter in Blood of Heroes. Enemies * Royal War Wizard (3900 Gold, 480 XP, 300 Energy, 3 HP) * Royal Cavalry Mage (4550 Gold, 500 XP, 350 Energy, 3 HP) Transcript Introduction "Death to the tyrant!" Roderick's voice rose above the cacophony, more powerful than the clash of metal, the grunts, the groans, the screams, and the thudding of steel in flesh. "Death to Crenus!" "Death to the tyrant!" "Death to Crenus!" Every rebel who lived and breathed took up the cry as they poured through the armory gates and into the battle beyond -- leaving the courtyard behind them littered with the dead of both sides. The fighting here was even more turbulent and haphazard. It was as though the fortress' walls had burst, disgorging combat and carnage to the four winds. Royal warriors and spellcasters charged in different directions, some engaging the rebels from the armory while others bolstered their comrades against the horde that had arrived to aid them. In the latter quarter soldiers still tried to forestall further bloodshed by routing the mob. The small band of horsemen who'd remained with the main force instead of scouring the countryside were trying to scatter and disperse the crowd through thunderous charges that wheeled away just before the point of impact. But both sides' blood was up now, and there was little hope of that. Men and women with makeshift weapons surged around the cavalry, slashing at the steeds' legs or else trying to unseat the riders and take the animals for themselves. For their part, some of the mounted warriors had cast caution and clemency to the winds. Their swords slashed down at the angry faces. Their horses kicked and trampled. Around the armory, no such niceties existed to be cast aside. There men and women fought to the death, and it seemed that each force was racing to see who would reach that destination first. It was in this grim theater that Marcellus and Sunderer were embroiled. The weapon master's famed skill, the martial prowess he'd built and honed since his youth, seemed laughable here -- superfluous in a battle where no blow could fail to find a victim in the press of men before him. Only the might of his thews, the strength of his will, and the sharpness of his blade mattered now. Each sweeping blow carved gaping wounds in the enemy. Men dropped in twos and threes, felled by the powerful weapon. But his protective magic was spent now. Crimson wounds decorated the great muscles of his chest, forming new patterns amongst the lines of blue paint. A horse reared up behind the lines of soldiers he battled. Atop it sat a man armored in a more elaborate panoply than these minions whose mail shirts, helmets, and purple tabards Sunderer rent. It was the general who'd ridden to the armory beneath a flag of parley. The general... Marcellus' eyes glinted. "He's ours, Sunderer," he whispered. Conclusion The weapon master roared. His axe whirled around him, spinning in vast circles that promised death or dismemberment to anyone who dared come close. Marcellus' boots trod on a carpet of corpses, stomping them deeper into the churned up earth. More bodies were strewn on either side and in his wake. They told the tale of a feat of arms even he had never equaled before, and never would again. Blood poured from his ripped chest and abdomen. It spilled his strength upon the dead, threatening to drain him and cast him among their number. There wasn't much time... And there was the general, still looking on from atop his horse, yelling orders in every direction. Marcellus kept swinging, driving his enemies away. Every few moments one of them came in close to try and finish him. He'd feel a momentary shudder in his arms as Sunderer lopped off a limb or cleaved a head in two. But the blade kept moving, unstoppable and unyielding. She would never betray him. The weapon master stumbled forward, through the last of the breaking line. His legs were faltering now. And General Francis was laughing -- secure in the knowledge that the war-painted warrior would never reach him. "It's up to you now, girl," Marcellus said. The sweeping arcs of destruction came to an end. He drew Sunderer to himself and kissed the flat of her blade. They'd served each other so very well. He raised her above his head, then gave one final cry. And Sunderer flew. Category:Blood of Heroes